


Little Red, Little Red

by defyaugury



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid!AU, M/M, Neko!hiccup, Smut, wolf!Jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3869683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defyaugury/pseuds/defyaugury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Hiccup might not have been born from the same litter, but they certainly loved each other like family. Now, fifteen years later, Jack finds out Hiccup might still be alive and he'll do anything to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**  

Jack growled.

It was a small, high-pitched growl that wasn't all that intimidating, but still being just a pup, it was the best he could manage.

So Jack crouched low to the ground, his ears turned forward, his fluffy white tail swishing back and forth, with a tiny growl rumbling from his tiny tummy. In the next second, he sprung forward, colliding with a small ball of soft brown fur, which let out a surprised yowl as it was bowled over by the overactive wolf-pup.

There was a small commotion of giggling and yowling and small yips as the white and brown fluffs of fur tumbled over each other. They around the living room of the small, slightly shabby apartment, the entire room to themselves as everyone else was off sleeping in their room and Mamma was out at work.

"Jack," the brown ball of fur (otherwise called Hiccup) whined. The small kitten finally managed to push the the wolf-pup off of him. "Mamma said no more pouncing in the house."

Jack rolled away from the kitten to crouch on all fours once more, his tail whipping back and forth excitedly. Hiccup sat sitting up, his legs sprawled in front of him as he eyed Jack. A bracelet glittered on the kitten's wrist, one made of the cheap little beads you always find in craft kits. It was very simple, just a string of red beads looped together with red string. Red was Hiccup's favorite color, which had earned the kitten the nickname "Little Red," dubbed so by their mother. The bracelet had been a birthday gift from Jack one year, and Hiccup hadn't taken it off since.

Jack huffed at the kitten. "But Hiccup," the pup whined. He gave a small playful pounce forward that didn't quite reach the kitten. "I just wanted to play! Come and play with me!"

The pup knew he wasn't allowed to pounce in the house any more. Their mother had told him that multiple times. But their mother had also told them that they were not allowed outside under any circumstance either. She'd said it was dangerous outside and that neither Jack nor any of Hiccup and his litter were allowed to leave the apartment. And this, of course, made Jack a very stir-crazy pup. After being cooped up for so long, he couldn't help it, he needed to play. He _needed_ to pounce and run and jump and dig and do all the other thing puppies were supposed to do. So he knew very well that he wasn't supposed to pounce in the house, but he just couldn't help himself.

Jack hopped forward again, his uncoordinated puppy limbs flopping about, as he pawed playfully at the kitten. Hiccup looked unamused. Hiccup was a house cat, just like all of his brothers and sisters, and just like his mother. Jack was the only one of the house that _wasn't_ a cat. Hiccup's mother had found him abandoned in a cardboard box outside the local library one rainy night a few years ago. Back then, Mamma had said Jack was so small, he couldn't even reach the top of the box. He was small and cold and wet and shivering when she'd found him and she said that he looked so precious she knew she couldn't just leave him there. So she carefully wrapped him up in her coat and carried him home to meet her own litter of mewling kittens.

Since then, Jack had grown up with the Haddock kittens. And though he loved his brothers and sisters very much, it was sometimes lonely being the only wolf in the house. Jack found himself wanting to do things his brothers and sisters didn't, such as play fetch or go for runs outside. And then there were the things all his brother and sisters could do that he couldn't, such as climb to the top of the fridge or the top of the cabinets in a few leaps. Not to mention the fact that he had never once thrown up a hairball. But even though Jack was obviously very different from his brothers and sisters, Jack knew Mamma loved him just as much as she did her own litter. And Jack did get along with the other kittens very well, with everyone willing to teach him how to climb into high places, or squeeze in to small spots, though he never could get the hang of any of it.

But out of all his brothers and sisters, there was one kitten that Jack got along with especially well. And that was Hiccup. Being smaller than everyone else, Hiccup was what one might call the runt of his litter (though Mamma said that they weren't allowed to ever call someone that). Hiccup was like Jack, in that he couldn't get into as many high places as his brothers and sisters, often falling half-way to his goal. He also wasn't very good and nipping, which was a game Jack and the other kittens had come up with, the goal being to nip one another's ears. If your ear was nipped first, then you lost the game. And Hiccup was nearly always the first to lose.

So, with Hiccup not quite being like the rest of the kittens of the house, he and Jack got along very well. Better even than any of their other siblings. Jack was the rowdy pup that nearly always got them into trouble, while Hiccup was the clever kitty that weaseled their way out of trouble just as often. The two were always at each other's side, both insisting every night that they slept curled up next to each other, though the two tended to make much more of a fuss during the day. They were inseparable.

"Hey, wanna see what I can do?" Jack asked excitedly wagging his behind in the air as he spoke. Before Hiccup even had time to answer, Jack began spinning. He began running in circles on all fours, stumbling now and then before finally coming to a stop to face Hiccup.

"Fee?" Jack asked, his voice muffled by his own fluffy white tail caught in his mouth.

Hiccup giggled. "Jack, you look silly," he said. "Why do you do that, anyways?"

Jack let go of his tail, grinning. "Because it's fun! Come on, you try it and you'll see!"

Hiccup shook his head, pointed ears twitching. "I don't wanna, it makes me dizzy. Let's do something else instead."

"Like what?" Jack asked, falling back to sit on his haunches. He reached up with a hand to scratch behind his ear.

"I dunno," Hiccup said. Just then, the kitten yawned, mouth stretching wide to reveal tiny little sharp teeth that weren't yet big enough to be called fangs. "How about we take a nap?" he suggested after finishing his yawn.

"But you're always sleeping," Jack whined.

"That's because sleeping is good for you," Hiccup said matter-of-factly. The kitten paused then, squinting at Jack for a moment before crawling forward and reaching up to fiddle with one of the pup's pointed ears.

"What're you—?"

"Hold still," Hiccup said as he twisted Jack's ear gently with his fingers, looking at it from all sides. "You're so dirty," he muttered before leaning forward and running his tongue over the furry side of Jack's ear.

Now, normally, Jack didn't like being cleaned. Whenever Mamma cleaned him like she did the rest of her litter, he always squirmed and whined at the feeling. When Hiccup did it though, that was different. He squirmed less, the rhythmic feeling of Hiccup's tongue running over his hair and fur more comforting and soothing than weird and squirm-worthy.

Hiccup continued to clean Jack, licking the pup's ears and head over and over until Jack finally curled himself around Hiccup's waist, head resting in the kitten's lap as he continued to clean him. By the time Hiccup was satisfied with the pup's appearance, the pup was already fast asleep, breathing deeply in Hiccup's lap. Without further encouragement, Hiccup gave another yawn before curling up and resting his head against Jack's back. It was mere seconds before both the little ones were sleeping soundly, the two curled around each other in a perfect picture of ease and safety.

* * *

Jack was jarred awake by a loud bang coming from the direction of the front door.

The pup jumped at the sound, eyes opening, though his vision was still blurry with sleep. The first thing he noted was that he was still curled around Hiccup, the kitten having been woken by the same noise as Jack. The second thing Jack noticed was that it was dark. It must've been way past his and Hiccup's bedtime.

The wolf-pup had barely enough time to register any of this before the apartment was filled with shouting and chaos. The bang the two little ones had heard was the door being forced open so that it was now only attached to the doorframe by mere splinters. Large men dressed in all black and carrying guns stormed into the already small apartment, all of them shouting and yelling.

The men in black were all very big and wearing masks with glass eyes that hid their faces and made them look like giant flies. With one sniff, Jack knew that these men weren't like him and Hiccup. They were human. One-hundred percent human. As soon as the men were in the apartment, they noticed Hiccup and Jack still curled up on the floor and made their way towards the little ones. Jack felt as his hackles raised immediately, his nerves on end, every sense on high alert. His face grew hot and he could feel as tears pricked behind his eyes. He didn't know what was happening, didn't know who these people were or what they were doing here, only that he suddenly felt very small and very scared. The pup let out a whine and backed up against the wall, grabbing Hiccup by his shirt to pull the kitten with him.

The men were on them in seconds, a harsh, intimidating breathing coming from their scary masks. One took Hiccup by the wrist and began to drag him away, while another picked Jack up by the waist, nearly crushing the small pup in his massive, meaty hands. Jack let out a panicked whine, reaching out and grabbing hold of Hiccup's other wrist, fingers curling around that string of tiny plastic red beads. Tears began running down his face and he was screaming and everyone was yelling and he was so scared and everyone was so big and he was so small.

The man holding Jack pulled as the man holding Hiccup lifted the kitten up by the wrist so his feet were dangling above the floor. Jack could feel as his fingers slipped on Hiccup's wrist as the men in black pulled them apart. He held on to the kitten as tight as he could, the hard plastic of those beads digging into his skin, but he was still only a pup and still only so strong. The men ripped the two of them apart, Jack loosing his hold of Hiccup's wrist and the red beaded bracelet slipping off in his grip.

"Hiccup! Jack!"

Jack looked at the sound of a familiar voice to find their mother standing at the entry way to the living room as the men in black came rushing into the apartment, her hair on end, her eyes filled with terror.

"Mamma!" Jack screamed, his voice hoarse, as he thrashed in his attacker's grip, trying desperately to get away.

In the next moment, one of the men in black lunged at her, a long stick with a loop at the end in his hands. Jack and Hiccup's mother ducked as the man swung his stick. She reached up and grabbed the stick before yanking it out of the man's hands and using the other end to hit him upside the head. The man crumpled.

Before anyone else could reach her, she was across the room. There were two short, high-pitched pew! sounds, and the drywall next to Hiccup and Jack shattered to create two gapping holes. Jack flinched. As his eyes were closed, Jack could feel as something collided very solidly with the man that was holding him. He felt as the man fell, bringing Jack along with him, the sound of yowling and yelling coming from overhead.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, not sure what to do and just hoping he wouldn't get hurt. In the next moment, The large, bone-crushing hands released him. Before he could move, another pair of smaller, somewhat familiar hands came to scoop him up. Jack finally opened his eyes and looked up to find that he was cradled safely in the arms of his mother as she ran down the hall that ended in a window leading to the fire escape outside. He peered over Mamma's shoulder at the commotion behind them.

"Mamma," Jack said. "What about Hiccup? We can't leave him!"

"Hush, baby," Jack's mother said. "It's okay."

"But Mamma!"

In the second, the two went down, with Jack's mother falling forward and Jack tumbling out of her arms. Jack rolled to his hands and knees, looking up to see his mother sprawled out on the floor, one of the men in black standing over her. She looked up at Jack, blood now matting her hair and running down her forehead.

"Jack, baby, you have to go!" she told him.

"But Mamma," Jack whined as he began to crawl towards her.

"Jack. _Run!_ " she screamed.

Jack winced. The large man in black crouched down then, something silver and sharp in his hand and he bent over Jack's mother. Jack turned away before he could see what happened next and then he listened to his mother. He listened to his mother and he ran the rest of the way down the hall towards the open window and the fire escape beyond, the little red bracelet with its little red beads still grasped in his fist.

He ran. And he never stopped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe that a good author never needs to explain the mechanics of their world if they do their job right. That being said, I do not think of myself as a good author, so if you need anything explained or any words defined, please let me know.

One, two, three, four, five.

Jack counted them again.

Five, four, three, two, one.

Five little red beads, all strung together on a little red string in a loop barely big enough to fit a child's wrist.

One, two, three, four, five.

He counted them again and again, pushing the beads back and forth on their string in some sort of ritualistic dance. Forward, back, then forward, and back again.

Five, four, three, two, one.

He thumbs over each one, rolling them between his fingers as he hunched his back against the cold drizzle that was typical for a night in Calamitas City. He was wearing a large blue hoodie, his tail stuffed up the back and hidden from view.

One, two, three, four, five.

He ran his fingers over each bead, getting to know them intimately, though he already knew them by heart. The first bead and it small impressions from the glitter trapped inside its plastic shape. Each bead with it's small ridge formed from imperfect manufacturing, the third one having a more pronounced ridge than the others. The fourth one with the small chip in its edge.

Five, four, three, two, one.

Jack counts them again, one for each second that ticks by as he keeps his lookout from his perch on an abandoned warehouse roof. The sound of distant police sirens and barking dogs reached his ears, the voice of the city coming up to meet him. Jack peered past the rain and through the window of the run down building across the street, counting the beads between his fingers.

One.

He counts one man on lookout. One crony dressed in black and leaning against the front door of the run down building, an automatic riffle slung across his back.

Two.

Jack can see two cars parked outside. High end, black, and shiny. Expensive cars, probably foreign. Now, in any other part of the city, this might have not been a big deal. But on the bad side of Devil's Island, a single, nice looking car parked anywhere was suspicious. Two was an anomaly.

Three.

Through a broken window, Jack could see three men, all dressed in black like the one outside. They were clustered around a small table, dealing hands of cards as they chewed on the ends of their cigarettes, the smoke making the air hazy.

Four.

Four windows down, and Jack can see further into the building. In the back sat a a collection of ruined furniture, all busted and broken. Among them was a single wooden chair, its occupant a small boy, no older than seven or eight, with his hands tied behind his back and tear tracks staining his face. His forehead was bleeding and his cheek was already beginning to swell. Not far away stood a man dressed slightly better than the other, still dressed head to toe in all black. He was milling about, occasionally taking a call on his phone with idle hand gestures, a silver magnum gripped loosely in his hand.

Five.

A fifth call. The man with the magnum pulled out his phone, talking with the person on the other end as he stared up at the ceiling. Jack strained his ears, facing them forward as he strained to pick up the conversation between the man on the phone, even from this distance. After a minute or two, the man on the phone nodded, a few more words exchanged before he ended his call and slid the phone back into his pocket.

Before the call had even ended, Jack has stood up, quickly slipping the red beaded bracelet into his pocket before pulling a baseball cap out of his hoodie pocket. He pulled on the hat, making sure his pointed wolf's ears were tucked safely inside. The rain had picked up, now coming down in heavy droplets that pounded the rooftops and the pavement below.

Five.

Jack hefted an iron bar in his hand, one he'd found among the other trash littering roof of the abandoned warehouse. With one easy swing, he threw it into the street below, a few yards away from the man standing guard outside. A faint clanking could be heard through the rain as the bar connected with asphalt.

Four.

The man standing guard straightened up, pulling the rifle from his back as he stepped away from the door as he looked around, trying to see where the noise had come from. He walked out into the street, his rifle aimed and ready to shoot, turning in circles, a sharp eye out for anything that moved. Jack grinned. With an easy leap, he cleared the edge of the roof and gabbed hold of a dead power line that was hanging over the street. He swung on the line, quiet as a cat, before letting go. The man with the rifle didn't stand a chance. Jack landed right on top of him, no doubt breaking both his legs and fracturing a collarbone.

Three.

Jack took the rifle, slipping the strap over the shoulders of the now unconscious man before making the rest of his way across the street and to the front door of the abandoned building. He paused, taking a few measured breaths and making sure the rifle was loaded. Without another thought, Jack opened the door and flung it open. Shielding himself next to the door outside of the building, Jack aimed the rifle into the door, aiming downwards and firing without giving anyone on the other side enough time to react.

Two.

As soon as the rapid fire of the automatic ran out, Jack darted through the door and into the building, rifle still in hand. He ran past the three men laying on the ground, now cradling shattered femurs and non-lethal bullet wounds. Shots from the magnum rang out as Jack darted left, running along the wall of the first floor, too fast for the shooter to keep up. Jack flipped the rifle so he held it by the barrel before leaping. He planted his foot on the wall and pushed off, making it all the way to the man with the magnum as he hefted the rifle over his shoulder, swinging it around like a baseball bat.

One.

There was a satisfying crunch as the butt of the riffle connected with the man's face, sending him to the floor in a spray of blood. The magnum went flying. Jack landed heavily on both feet, stumbling only slightly before dropping the rifle and going for the magnum. He picked up the gun, quickly unloading it and dropping the ammo in his pocket.

He turned back to see that the man he'd hit with the riffle was already making movements to get up. Jack walked back the way he'd come, kicking the man in the chest as he passed, no doubt breaking a few of his ribs. The man let out a grunt before falling back to the ground. Jack paid him no mind as he mad his way to the boy tied to the chair.

Jack knelt down in front of the boy, who was sobbing, tears running down his face as his breaths came in fast, panicked huffs. The boy was starting to hyperventilate, his eyes darting between Jack and the man on the ground, pupils dilated to the point of being nearly completely black. Then again, his eyes might actually be black, the thought occurred to Jack as he took in the white and black blotted cow ears and horns sprouting from the boy's mess of black hair. It wasn't rare for bossens to be born with eyes that were more bovine than human.

Jack reached out, laying a gently hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said as softly as he could. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help, okay?"

The boy could only stare at Jack in wide-eyed fear, his entire body shaking uncontrollably.

Jack let out a sigh. Being part cow, bossens were a race that weren't that easy to spook. But needless to say, being kidnapped and held hostage by violent men for the better part of a week, would be enough to scare anyone. Not to mention, Jack had no doubt the boy could smell the wolf on him, a matter that would only serve to scare the poor kid even more.

"Hey, it's alright," Jack tried again, being as gentle as he could. "You're safe now. I'm going to take you back to your mom, okay?"

The boy's ears twitched at the mention of his mother. After a moment, he gave a hesitant nod, still quaking a he did so.

Jack gave a reassuring smile and a nod. "Okay."

He quickly moved to the back of the boy's chair and began untying the rope wound tight around his wrists. At the sound of a pained groan and slow shuffling, Jack glanced over to the man on the floor. The man moaned as he held a hand up to his broken nose and pulled himself back to prop himself up against a dilapidated couch. He looked at Jack and the kid. In the state he was in, Jack knew the man couldn't do any harm at this point, so he ignored him.

"Who-Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm the person that's going to take this boy home," Jack replied cooly as continued to try to undo the knots in the rope, his efforts proving fruitless.

"I-I don't understand," the man asked, voice thick and nasally as blood ran down his face. "Who do you work for?"

Jack let out a sigh, finally giving up as he leaned down and tore at the rope with his canines, ripping it in two.

"I don't work for anybody," he said as he quickly pulled free the rest of the rope.

"This isn't fair! Little Red said this wasn't anybody's territory!"

Jack froze, eyes going wide as he tried to process what he'd just heard. He spun around to face the man with the broken nose.

"What was that?" he asked. "What did you say?"

"This isn't anyone's turf, man!" the man whined. "We're operating on neutral ground! You have no right coming in here—"

He was stopped short as Jack seized him by the shirt front, bringing him to within only a few inches from his face. "Who said this wasn't anyone's territory?!" Jack growled.

"I-I don't know his name!" the man said, throwing up his hands and cowering. "Just that everyone calls him Little Red!"

Jack felt as something struck his heart for a second time, the name making his mind race. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the man, unable to believe what he'd just been told. Jack thought of the little red bracelet in his pocket, barely big enough for a child.

A crash came from the other side of the building and Jack spun to see as more men spilled in from an open door. Without thinking, he dropped the man with the broken nose. Jack quickly scooped up the bossen boy in his arms before running towards the closest exit. With only a few running steps, Jack leaped, bringing both him and the boy through a window in a shattering cacophony of broken glass and into the alley beyond.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack let out a tired sigh as the door to his apartment swung closed.

He was immediately met with a insistent meowing as something furry and lanky twinned itself between his legs, nearly tripping him.

Jack let out a tired chuckle. “Okay, okay, Baby Tooth,” he said. “I get it, you’re hungry.”

Jack quickly moved the house cat out of the tripping zone, picking her up and moving her to the side with a foot. He rubbed a hand over his head, slipping his baseball cap off as he did so, freeing his ears. They twitched as he tried to shake the pinching, folded feeling from them. If he wore a hat for too long, his folded ears usually ended up giving him a headache.

Jack made his way towards the small kitchen of his small, shabby apartment, dropping his sweatshirt and hat off on the couch as he passed it. Right before the kitchen, Jack paused at a small desk pushed up against the wall and opened up the small, engraved wooden box that sat on it’s scratched and pockmarked surface. Inside the box were just a few valuable possessions. A stack of folded bills, relatively thick for someone who was living on the wrong side of the East River, all of them held together with a rubber band. A thank you note written in crayon by a six-year-old girl he’d rescued a few years ago. She’d been kidnapped from her mother by an abusive father that was no longer in the picture. In the corner of the box rested a flake of solid gold that had chipped off the plating of a stollen family heirloom he’d retrieved for a rich family a year after the girl. He’d tried to explain the chip, but the family paid it no mind, the intrinsic value of the heirloom proving much more valuable than it’s outward appearance. The flake couldn’t be worth more than a few spare dollars, but still, Jack liked the feeling of owning something of value.

Jack slipped a hand into his pocket, producing the bracelet with those small plastic beads. He paused, sparing another look at the bracelet as he ran his fingers over the beads absentmindedly. He remembered giving the bracelet to the bossen boy to play with, hopping it’d help with the crying. He remembered the smile on the boy’s face when he saw his mother running out of the house to them. An image flashed through Jack’s mind of the last time he’d seen his mother, running into a room filled with screams and men with guns. A sad smile slipped onto his lips, knowing he could reunite at least one family.

After a moment, Jack dropped the bracelet into the box and closed the lid. He locked the box with a little brass key that was looped on a length of leather that Jack then slipped over his head. He tucked the key under the neck of his shirt so it could rest next to his heart.

Without another look at the box, Jack continued to the kitchen, where he was met with more meowing from the house cat sitting on the counter as she gave Jack a very pointed glare.

“Yeah, alright, alright,” Jack said was he opened the pantry door. He grabbed a can of cat food, pulling on the tab and popping it open before sliding the contents into a relatively clean bowl and setting it in front of the hungry kitty. Baby Tooth waisted no time in setting in to her dinner. Jack gave a small smile before turning back to the pantry.

The kitchen was pretty bare in general, with the fridge being next to empty and the pantry filled with nothing but a few scattered cans of pet food. Jack sifted past the cat food, only to come across a collection of empty cans of dog food. He peered into the empty cans, tossing each one aside with slight annoyance.

Now, normally people like Jack didn’t lower themselves to the level of eating pet food, but in some cases where money was too tight, canned animal food would suffice. It was trick he’d picked up from his mother. Pet food was relatively cheap and packed with nutrients, proving useful to those born with the stomachs to handle it. But as it was, Jack didn’t even have canned dog food to hold him over for the night. He tossed aside the last can with a sigh. He really wasn’t in the mood for going back out.

Jack gave the still eating Baby Tooth a scratch behind the ears as he passed her on his way to the door. He  snatched up his sweatshirt and hat again, slipping them on quickly.

“I’ll be back, Baby Tooth,” he said. “Be good. Remember, no crazy parties while I’m out.”

The cat gave a half-hearted meow before Jack slipped out, the door shutting closed behind him.

Calamitas City was huge, being one of the largest and most diverse cities in the world. Most would say Calamitas City was  _the_  city. With a population of over eight million, it was a world hub for politics, scandals, media, news, fashion, drugs, and a laundry list of other affiliations. It was a city of commerce, a city of culture and colors and sounds and people that gave it such a voice that it could be heard across the world. It was known as the leader in the forefront of foreign policies and What the city did, the rest of the world was soon to follow.

Though if you asked Jack, he’d say it was a shit hole of a city. One filled with dirty politicians and prejudice citizens. The city was progressive, all right. The most progressive in all forms of dismantling basic human rights and suppressing its citizens into empty-minded fidelity and submission through fear tactics and political oppression.

Calamitas city was divided into sections, its five boroughs clustered around where the East River emptied into the Gaelic Ocean. On the west side of the river was High Castle, the central hub for the upper class. Those right on the water front were usually politicians, ambassadors, and B-list celebrities living it up in penthouse apartments and million dollar yachts. On the outskirts of the west side, right at the city limits, was Scranton, filled with townhouses and apartments for the middle class families of small time lawyers and newspaper reporters trying to make it to the big leagues. Reflected across to the east side of the river, you could find what most would call the “dregs of society.” First came Saycarts, located right on the east banks of the East River, populated with working families that were scraping by with just enough to pay the rent and feed the kids. Next came what most called “the Pound,” an even poorer section of the city filled with run down apartments and barely functional streets. This was where you could find ninety percent of the city’s part-animal residents. Right off the coast, secluded in the waters of the Gaelic Ocean was Devil’s Island. Though still connected directly to the city by a network of bridges and roads, it was a section of the city avoided by most and rarely even talked about. Being the prime spot for drug lords, violent gangs, and random shoot-outs, Devil’s Island was without a doubt the most dangerous part of the city. To go into Devil’s Island alone at night was to have a death wish.

Jack lived at the edge of the Pound, with Saycarts and its decent shops and diners being less than a five minute walk away. As he walked down the street, illuminated by flickering street lamps, he his back hunched against the rain that had lightened to a drizzle, keeping his head down and trying to attract as little attention to himself as possible. It was too late to do any grocery shopping, all the stores having been closed down by this hour. He’d have to find a diner or restaurant for a quick meal.

Jack continued down the street, coming across the occasional night wanderer as he pointedly avoided eye contact with each one. Shops passed him on either side. Most had signs in their front windows. Some of them read 

" **No service offered to turae.** " 

And that was about as nice as they got. There were others that said,

 " **No animals, INCLUDING turae.** " 

" **Humans only, no turae allowed**." 

" **Allturae will be reported to the PC.** " 

Some simply had pictures with animal ears and tails crossed out in blood red. Others had pictures of people with varying ears and tails, all in collars and leashes with the caption: 

" **All animals must be left outside.** " 

His options running out, Jack picked a small late night diner at random, pulling his hat a little further down over his ears as he ducked inside. The diner was small, with an outdated checkered and cracked tile floor. There were a few vinyl booths, most cracked and worn with stuffing leaking out. The lights overhead were harsh, with one in the corner flickering to cast the diner in jumpy shadows.

Jack counted three patrons. A man with a bald spot and pot belly hunched over a greasy sandwich in a booth. Then a mother and her over-active toddler seated at the diner’s bar. Jack kept his head down and slid onto a bar stool. When scrawny old man with missing hair and teeth asked him what he wanted, Jack cast a look at the menu behind the bar and picked something at random, asking for it to go.

As soon as the man shuffled off to relay the order, Jack noticed as something climbed onto the seat next to his. He looked to find the toddler had seat-hopped their way all the way over to him and was now looking up at him with large eyes, some sort of sauce smeared all over their face.

"Hey mister,” the kid said in an obnoxiously squeaky voice.

Jack ignored them, turning away ever so slightly. What time was it anyways? Why wasn’t this kid in bed already?

“Hey mister,” came the voice again. “Can I look at your hat?”

“No,” Jack said. “Go away.”

“Please?” the kid asked, jumping up and down on their stool so that it squeaked. “I just wanna see it.”

Jeez, why was this kid bothering him? What was the mom doing, ‘cause it sure as hell wasn’t watching her kid.

“No,” Jack said.

“Oh come on,” the kid whined. The toddler then proceeded to push themselves up so they were standing on the stool, their head reaching a few inches taller than Jack’s. “Don’t you know you have to share?”

The toddler teetered on the bar stool, obviously off-balanced. They wobbled to and fro, arms out to keep them up right.

“Get down from there, kid,” Jack said.

“Not until you let me see your hat.”

Jack let out a frustrated sigh, getting ready to tell the little nuisance off. He turned to face the kid, only to be met with a pair of grubby little sticky hands shoved right in his face. Before he could even fully understand what was happening, Jack reacted, slapping the kid away. But it was too late, the kid already had hold of the bill of his hat. The slap had unbalanced the kid and the next thing he knew, the kid was sprawled on the ground, Jack’s hat clasped in their sticky little grip. He could feel as the harsh air-conditioning of the diner hit his ears.

Jack’s heart stopped.

“Hey!”

Jack’s heart stuttered back to life as he turned to see that mommy-dearest had finally taken notice of her offspring, who was now bawling on the floor of the diner.

“Don’t you fucking touch my kid!”

The woman stormed over to Jack, her hand whipping out to slap him hard across the face before she reached down to man-handle her kid into her arms.

“God damned animals,” she spat at Jack. “They need to put you all in shock collars.”

Just then the skinny bald man came shuffling back in behind the bar.

“Hey, hey, what’s the commotion about?” he asked in a croaky, tired voice. He froze as soon as his eyes landed on Jack, who was starting to feel more and more like a cornered animal with every passing second.

“You!” he said, pointing right at Jack. “What the hell are you doing in here? Can’t you read the sign?”

“Sir, please,” Jack started. “I didn’t mean—”

“Get the hell out of here!” the man yelled.

“He was tryin’ to hurt my kid!” the woman screeched at the diner waiter. “Call the PC on him!”

“No, please,” Jack begged, his heart racing against his ribs. “You don’t need to do that.”

“You monsters think you can just go wherever you want,” the man said as he shuffled over to the phone on the wall. “They needed to put you all in cages years ago.” He picked up the phone and began dialing.

Jack bolted. He banged out the diner door and sprinted down the street, ignoring the shouting the followed him. He pulled the hood of his hoodie up over his ears, pulling the drawstrings tight. He darted down an alleyway, taking turn after turn and doing his best to stay out of the light of the street lamps.

He only slowed when he made it back to the Pound, his own heavy breathing loud in his ears as sweat ran down his back. Jack made a bee-line for his apartment building, desperate to get inside, despite the growling in his stomach. He was just bout to turn onto his street, when he his heart dropped into his stomach. Jack backpedaled, panic surging through him again as he huddled behind the corner of the building. After a few moments, he leaned forward to look down his street.

A few buildings down, parked right across the street from his apartment, was a large black van, the words  _Turae Relocation and Education Services_  painted in yellow on it’s side. In other words, Pest Control. Jack ducked back behind his corner. He let his head fall back against the brick wall, letting out a hiss of frustration.

“Shit.”

* * *

Over twenty blocks away and forty minutes later, in a better off section of Saycarts, Jack was seated down at a worn wooden table in the back room of a quant little bar called “The Workshop” with a steaming hot meal in front of him. The owner was a large man with a snow-white head of hair and matching beard and was currently seated across the table from Jack. Next to the man, leaning against the table, was a woman covered head to toe in swirling, colorful silks. Her scarf she usually wore wrapped around her head was lowered to hang loosely around her neck to reveal a rainbow of feathers dotting her hairline and weaving through her hair.

“You took a job for free, Jack?” the man asked in disbelief.

“Come on, North,” Jack said, pausing in his ravenous devouring of the food in front of him. “The family had no money, their kid was kidnapped.”

“Then you report it to the police,” North said.

“The police weren’t going to do anything,” Jack said. “Not for a bossen boy. Besides, you and I both know that kid would’ve been sold into the sex trade in less than a week.”

North raised both his eyebrows, the look on his face slightly curious. “Bossen?” he said. “Almost as scarce as your kind.”

“Jack, dear, we’re just trying to look out for you,” said the woman. “You keep taking those free jobs, where do you think that’s going to get you? We aren’t going to keep feeding you for free forever,” she added with a wink and a smile.

Jack grinned. Tooth and North knew very well that Jack knew he was always welcome to the Workshop and a warm meal any time.

After loosing his mother and Hiccup that night so many years ago, Jack had taken to the streets, eating out of the trash and sleeping in cardboard boxes. It was a glorious stroke of luck that North and his wife had found him. They’d immediately taken Jack in, raising him in their apartment above the bar. Though they could never replace Jack’s Mother and litter, North and Tooth still loved him with all their heart.

Jack went back to eating, nearly licking the plate clean. Tooth’s cooking had always been his favorite.

“Bah,” North said, leaning down to grab something beneath the table. “We’re just glad you got out of that warehouse safe. You and that boy.” He sat back up before sliding a beer across the table to Jack.

Jack looked up, pausing in his eating once more as he stared at the beer bottle, eyes growing distant as his mind recalled a memory from earlier that night.

“Yeah,” he said, distracted. “Speaking of the warehouse. While I was working the job, a name came up.”

Jack finally looked to find North with his brow creased and his face dark with cautious curiosity.

“What name?” he asked.

Jack took a breath and swallowed, knowing how this would sound. “Little Red.”

Tooth gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. North’s face darkened even further.

“Jack,” he started. “It’s not him.”

Jack could feel as his heart sank. He already knew what the answer was going to be. He knew that North was right. But still, there had been that one sliver of hope. That one miniscule chance that the impossible might just have been possible. Jack’s gaze fell to the table, a lump rising to this throat as he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. “I thought that maybe, it might be—”

“Jack, your mother and Hiccup were taken by the PC fifteen years ago,” Tooth said, her voice soft and consoling.

“They’re dead,” North said. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“Yeah,” Jack sighed. “I know.”

“Then forget it,” North said as he hefted himself up from his seat. “Don’t waste your time chasing ghosts when the living still need you.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, his voice small. He watched as a bead of water ran down the side of the beer bottle, thinking about that little red bracelet with little red beads. “Yeah, alright.”


End file.
